


A Star to Steer Her By

by Jenshih_Blue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Death, F/M, Gen, Parent/Child Incest, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenshih_Blue/pseuds/Jenshih_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A secret uncovered, a soul put to rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Star to Steer Her By

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the 25paranormal challenge on Live Journal.

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and

the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the

white sail’s shaking,

And a gray mist on the sea’s face and a gray dawn

breaking.

 

~ John Masefield, "Sea Fever"

 

***

 

A sky washed with darkening pastels stretched up over the Atlantic, a dome of beauty that Sam had come to love on the West Coast when he’d been at Stanford and yet this was different. Here the ocean was the first thing to darken and the land behind him was still lit by the faint glow of the setting sun. Moisture heavy, salt-tinged wind blew inland stirring his hair as he leaned on the railing that surrounded the deck overlooking the North Carolina beach, cool against his skin, and he wondered why it was that they’d rarely traveled near the ocean.

"I can’t believe they’re falling for this."

Sam grunted softly in amusement as Dean joined him at the railing. For someone who had hunted the legends, myths, and folk tales of humanity his entire life Dean could be quite the skeptic at times. Shaking his head Sam stared out towards the night cloaked ocean. "It was their daughter, Dean. Their sixteen year old daughter and the cops have nothing. They still believe she just ran away."

"Kids do it all the time, Sam." There was a hint of anger in Dean’s voice as he leaned forward his gaze tracking the movement of the waves that were curling inward from the ocean, edges trailing foam like finely woven lace.

Turning Sam quirked one brow in Dean’s direction. "Dean…" his tone was edged with warning. He knew that Dean was thinking about how he’d left for Stanford and no matter how much he tried to explain his reasons Dean would always think of it as ‘running away’. "This isn’t the time or the place. There’s a family in there…grieving for their daughter. Wanting to have just one last moment…" Sam’s voice trailed off as his thoughts drifted to Jess. He could understand Rachel Butterfield’s need to have one last moment. Hell, he’d sell his soul to have five minutes with Jess just to tell her how much she’d meant to him.

Head dropping, his chin resting on his chest, Dean sighed. "Look Sam you and I know she’s the one that’s been luring guys into the cove and drowning them. God knows I wished that she was alive, but she’s not and no matter how she died she’s still wrong."

"I know that, man…I do." Sam straightened up and glanced at the open glass doors, the flicker of candles in the darkness beyond eerie and almost cold. "Just because we have our doubts about Lena Philips doesn’t mean we’re right. Maybe her abilities are real…maybe she can contact the dead."

Dean snorted. "And maybe pigs can fly, dude."

A soft low chuckle escaped Sam. "You never know, Dean. We’ve seen stranger things."

***

Lena Philips was only one of many supposed mediums that Sam and Dean had both met in their travels over the years many who were nothing but con-artists. True mediums were as rare as blue diamonds. She was a small, delicate woman, standing all of four feet ten inches with a dark complexion and eyes like bottomless wells. Eyes that seemed to peel back the layers of the masks that most people kept locked firmly in place. Her hair was cut short and hugged the curve of her skull in a mass of tight dark coarse curls speckled with white at her temples. Tonight she was wearing a long loose tunic of dark blue silk over a pair of matching pajama pants the hems of both trimmed with tiny silver moons and stars that jingled with each move she made.

She never really smiled, but always had this elusive quirk to the corner of her full lips that if one caught it at the right moment might pass as a smile trying to escape. She glanced up as Sam entered the house, Dean right behind him closing the doors that led out to the deck. "Samuel." Her voice was rich and deep, thickened by the accent she spoke with. "Have you decided to join us for the séance?"

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean who shrugged and then turned back to the tiny woman who stood so close he could smell the scent she wore. It was something spicy like ginger or cinnamon, but he couldn’t quite place it. "Yes ma’am we are."

Snorting softly Lena turned and moved across the room silently to where the Butterfield family sat around the table already. "Your brother he be a non-believer."

"No, Dean believes." Sam followed her towards the table, a frown marring his brow.

She turned, one dark hand pressing against the table. "Yes, he be a believer in some things, but he not be believing in this." Lowering herself in the chair at the head of the table her dark gaze moved to Dean whose eyes were narrowed with annoyance. "I prove you wrong little soldier when I call the child back to her family. Now you set down."

Dean opened his mouth, but then his eyes settled on Rachel Butterfield. She reminded him of his own mother from the pictures he’d always held dear, from that moment in Lawrence when he’d seen her for the first time in twenty-two years. Her hazel eyes were red rimmed and her blonde hair hung loose around her slumped shoulders. The pain of her daughter Emily’s disappearance was obvious in the shadows beneath her eyes, the tight lines around her mouth, and the paleness of her skin. Looking at her he couldn’t believe she was only thirty-eight she looked so much older and suddenly the snarky comment that had rose in his throat vanished.

Taking his seat Dean gave Sam a glance across the table and then allowed his gaze to drift back across the faces they’d come to know over the past few days. Emily’s family. Her mother, her stepfather Richard, and her half-brother thirteen year old Cameron. They were a normal family, he thought, but then the Winchesters had been normal as well until the darkness had touched them. Normal wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

"Now," Lena spoke, "…let us join hands and begin."

***

Silence filled the shadow draped room the only light available spread out from the tall white pillar candle that sat in the center of the table and the scattered votive candles through out the room. The flickering buttery yellow light seemed to wash out any color in the faces around the table as Lena Philips closed her eyes, dark lashes shadowing her cheeks. She drew in a deep breath through her nose and then released it through barely parted lips before she spoke.

"Emily." Her voice was soft. "If you be here speak to us. Come into me child and speak."

Another soft breath and the candle’s flame flickered. Sam’s gaze never left her face as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He knew Dean didn’t believe, he’d had his own doubts as well, but something was here. He was absolutely sure his brother realized that as well now.

"Emily Butterfield we wish to speak to you child. Come to us…come into me and speak to those who loved you in this life. Come child." The temperature suddenly dropped, the air growing icy. "Can you speak with us Emily?"

The silence was suddenly ripped away by the sound of tortured weeping. Dean turned meeting Sam’s wide eyes and mouthed ‘what the fuck’ before searching the darkness around them. As his gaze settled on the glass doors to his left the weeping became louder seemingly coming from everywhere at once. Rachel’s eyes teared up as she searched the room her hand clutching her husband’s.

"Emily…" she whispered, "…Emily baby it’s mom."

"This is ridiculous." Richard Butterfield started to stand only to be tugged back down into his seat by his wife’s desperate hands. "I told you Rachel this was a bad idea."

"Richard, please." Her dark eyes glittered in the candlelight. "If there’s a chance to find out what happened to Emily…" she choked back a sob. "I can’t live like this not knowing."

He slowly lowered back into his chair, yet the expression on his face was anything but happy about what was happening. "Fine Rachel, but I’m still not buying into this…"

Before he could finish the deck doors flew inward, slamming back so hard that the glass shattered, slivers scattering in a wild sparkle along the honey gold marble floor. The weeping grew even louder and suddenly Dean and Sam were on their feet as a blast of freezing wind tore through the doors and swirled around the room. The only one not moving was Cameron and his huge blue eyes were frozen to the spot where Lena sat.

"Mom…dad…" he stuttered.

Four sets of eyes turned as one to see where Cameron was pointing with one trembling hand. "What…what is that?" The young boy stuttered out, his eyes growing even larger and all the color draining from his face.

Just behind Lena was a misty shape that seemed to undulate and swirl, tiny tendrils curling around Lena’s dead still body. The medium’s eyes slowly flickered open and they were solid white almost glowing, but it wasn’t from the candlelight. The candle sat extinguished now a trail of grey-blue smoke curling up from the blackened wick towards the ceiling leaving the room in complete darkness.

"What the fuck?" Dean growled.

Sam stepped around the table and closer to Lena. As he did she turned her head, milky white eyes focusing on him. He took a deep breath and spoke softly. "Emily is that you?"

"Don’t be ridiculous Sam." Dean’s eyes narrowed as he moved to stand at Sam’s side, his trigger finger twitching. "This is some kind of trick."

Shaking his head, shaggy hair stirring in the cold wind that continued to batter the room Sam never looked away though the desire to do so was too damn strong for words. "I don’t think so, Dean. I think Lena’s the real deal." As he spoke Lena’s lips parted and he froze to the spot. He could hear Rachel crying hysterically behind them and he waited before he spoke again. "Emily Butterfield?"

A hollow voice whispered past Lena’s parted lips though they didn’t move. "Bastard…"

Sam reached inside his jacket pocket his fingers curling around the small flask of holy water he’d hid away. If this thing wasn’t Emily they were fucked nine ways til Sunday. "Are you Emily Butterfield?" He questioned again as he felt Dean next to him shift uncomfortably. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit I command you answer me."

The milky eyes narrowed. "Father?" After that single word an anger filled laugh drifted from between her lips and filled the room quickly followed by the sound of a chair falling to the floor. "You speak to me about a father? A father doesn’t hurt you…a father doesn’t do those things…" her head shifted, sightless eyes drifting around to settle on Richard Butterfield who was standing there a look of shock on his face, "…do they---father?"

Eyes widening Dean pushed past Sam heading for Richard. Sam halted him with a hand on his shoulder. "Dean?"

Dean turned towards Sam with glittering eyes. "I get it now." His voice was tight, on the verge of a fury Sam had rarely seen in his brother. His gaze moved back to Richard whose face was pasty in the darkness. "You’re one fucked up sicko, dude."

Whipping around Richard met Dean’s cold gaze with one of his own. "What the hell are you talking about?!" He snapped. "You don’t know me. None of you know me."

"But, I do father…I do…" the soft threatening voice drifted from Lena’s parted lips as she stood and stepped forward.

Rachel had grabbed her son pulling back into the shadows, a look of complete and utter horror painting her sickly pale features. "Oh, God…" eyes wide she shook her head.

"No, Rachel." Richard’s gaze met her sickened expression. "This is a trick."

"All this time." Her whispered words were filled with grief and rage, a rage that burned red hot. "All this time you knew."

Sam’s eyes darted back and forth from Richard to Rachel and then settled on Dean’s furious face with confusion. "What in the hell is she talking about?" His hand tightened on Dean’s shoulder.

"Richard killed her." Dean stated simply, his words gritted out through clenched teeth. "Think about it, Sam. All those victims. Dark hair, blue eyes, body type…she was trying to avenge her death. She was trying to make this bastard pay for what he did."

When the sudden realization hit Sam it was like a locomotive slammed into him. The visions he’d had that had led them here to this place. Every muscle began to tremble in his body as he clenched his fingers tightly, curling them into fists. "You did this? You killed your own daughter?"

Before Richard could answer Sam’s question Lena spoke again, no sign of her usual accent, and the tone of her words were that of a young girl. "You said you loved me daddy. You said you’d understand, but you were just using me." She turned towards Rachel and frowned. "Why didn’t you stop him mom? Why did you let him hurt me?"

Chest heaving with each ragged breath, Rachel Butterfield clung to her son. "I didn’t know baby…I swear…I didn’t." She sobbed desperately. "Don’t you think I would have stopped him if I’d known." Her head whipped around furious eyes focusing on her husband. "Why? Just tell me why Richard. There has to be a reason."

"How can you believe this woman? These men? I’m your husband I love you. I would never hurt Emily…she was my daughter."

"She was never your daughter." Rachel sobbed. "If you loved her you wouldn’t have…" her throat convulsed as she clamped her hand over her mouth, tears welling in her dark eyes.

Cameron looked at his father and then back at his mother. "What’s happening mom? Shit I’m scared. Did dad…" his voice trembled, "…did dad hurt Emily?"

The wind increased in the room, picking up stray papers, and small items flinging them through the darkness as they all stood, eyes darting from face to face. It sickened Sam to think that Richard had murdered his daughter, but what sickened him more was the unspoken sin. There was no doubt in Sam’s mind that Richard had been molesting Emily right under her mother’s nose and with regularity.

"What now?!" Sam yelled over the wind.

Dean lifted a hand shielding his eyes. "We need to find her!" He turned back to Richard with a sharp glare. "Where did you put her body you son of a bitch?!"

"I didn’t kill her!" Richard screamed.

Advancing on Richard’s trembling form Lena’s milky eyes focused on him. "Stars…" she wailed softly, "…why daddy?! Why?!"

Richard continued backing up even though Lena had stopped moving. The furious howl of the wind seemed to focus in on Lena’s frail form as she began to sway and then the misty form that had stood behind her was now rising from her body, strands clinging and stretching upward until they were so thin as to be non-existent. Rachel by now had drug her son into a corner, clinging to him as if her very existence depended on it.

"I didn’t kill you!" Backing away from the ethereal phantom Richard shook his head. "I didn’t do it!"

Above them the phantom swirled and convulsed. "Yes…daddy…yes…"

Dean and Sam began fighting against the wind, working their way towards Butterfield. If this thing that had been raised by the séance was actually the spirit of Emily then the only way they could rid it from the house was by finding her body. Dean reached Richard first his fist tangling in the older man’s shirt and his furious gaze focusing on his pale face.

"Enough of the bullshit!" He yelled over the howling wind that seemed to now hold the wailing of a thousand pain-filled voices. "Tell us where you hid Emily’s body or so help me God I’ll let her rip you the fuck apart, man!" Richard shook his head, his eyes dilated to the point of blackness, and Dean swore he could see Emily Butterfield’s tortured face reflected in the blackness. "Now you bastard!" Dean roared.

"He’ll do it!" Sam screamed. "We need to find her or we can’t stop her!"

"Stars…" the phantom cried out in a hollow voice, "…you promised me daddy. Please…"

Richard shuddered, clutching his chest while he tried to escape Dean’s grip. "You little bitch!" He screamed. "You were going to ruin everything! What did you expect?!"

Across the room Sam could hear Rachel gagging and choking as she turned away, vomit splattering the cold marble. Gaze darting from where Dean had Richard pinned to the wall Sam met the phantom’s hollow face with a fearless gaze. "Emily!! Please tell us where you are!! We can give you peace! We can see he pays for what he did!"

What remained of Emily Butterfield swirled downward to hover in front of Sam, dark hollow eyes focused on Sam. She cocked her head as if she were considering his promise and then lifted back up with a howl. "Star…upon…star…" then she flew down passing through Lena whose eyes fluttered shut and then into Sam.

Sam felt her, like a sheet of slick ice penetrate his skin, his muscle, down to the bone and then his mouth contorted into a soundless scream as he fell to his knees.

***

_

Wind was blowing off the ocean, catching the long blonde strands of her hair, tangling them around her face. The scent of salt and earth filling her nose as the deck of the boat undulated beneath her.

"What do you mean?"

"I’ve found someone who loves me."

"You don’t think I love you? What the fuck has this been about then?!"

She stared off into the distance at the darkening sky. "This was never about love. If you loved me you wouldn’t have…"

Suddenly rough hands grabbed her from behind, slamming her forward into the deck. Her head hit the edge of the railing as she fell and a sharp pain ripped through her temple. Then there was nothing but darkness. She blinked and felt light as a feather, opening her eyes, and she realized she was floating on the gentle ocean breeze.

"Jesus…oh, god…see what you made me do?"

Her pale golden hazel gaze lowered to the boat seemingly far below. A breath caught in her throat as her gaze settled on her own body, sprawled across the deck, eyes wide and unseeing.

"Answer me! God dammit Emily!"

Her stepfather was kneeling next to her lifeless body, a pool of crimson liquid spreading out along the wooden deck. It was in that moment that she realized what he’d done, but she still felt the tethers of what must be her soul tugging her down. She didn’t want to be dead. Please God, she couldn’t be dead. She was too young.

As she watched her stepfather bound her wrists and ankles with rope and then he was tying the extra anchor around her waist. She didn’t understand, she thought, she wasn’t dead. Please she silently screamed as she watched her stepfather lift her in his arms, limp and unmoving.

And then she was being pulled down, down into the waves, the cold water engulfing her.

I’m not dead…

Not dead…

Dead…

_

***

 

Sam threw back his head with a heartrending cry, tears glistening in his eyes as what remained of Emily passed through him. It had been only a split second, but it had seemed an eternity as he witnessed Emily’s last moments on earth. He stumbled to his feet a fury he’d never felt before flowing lava hot through his veins. Turning he caught Richard Butterfield’s wide terrified eyes and he stormed across the room.

Before the man could say one word, before Dean could lift a hand to stop him, Sam was grabbing Richard by the collar of his shirt and slamming him into the wall. "You son of a bitch!" He screamed as he pulled him back and slammed his head into the wall again. Drawing back his fist, he brought it forward feeling Richard’s nose break and warm blood splatter his face and fist.

"Jesus Christ, Sammy!" Dean growled grabbing his brother and dragging him away from Richard as he slid down the wall clutching his nose. "Stop it! Stop it!" Dean grabbed his flailing fists and pulled Sam around taking in his red rimmed eyes and tear streaked face. "Stop it, Sammy!"

Sam’s throat tightened as he weakly fought Dean, his knees collapsing beneath him. "Not dead…" he whimpered as he slid to the floor, Dean going with him, "…oh, god she wasn’t dead."

Suddenly the wind died down and the only sound was Rachel and Cameron’s sobbing as they clung to one another, the candle wicks flickering and springing back to life. Sam buried his face in Dean’s chest sobbing as his brother held him tight. A soft, cool touch trailed along Sam’s cheek as he tried to breathe, Dean stroking his hair.

"Thank you…"

Both he and Dean glanced up to see Lena standing over them, her eyes not her own and a sad smile curling a full lips. "Thank you for trying to help me. Make him pay Sam…please."

Sam nodded with a choked sob. "I swear to you…he’ll pay."

"The star…favorite place…diary in the fireplace…" her voice faded away and Lena began to sway. As she collapsed forward the candle flames rose upward like flame throwers, then died away leaving a warm salty breeze behind.

Lena lifted her head, dark eyes bottomless and natural once more. "It is done."

***

As the sun rose over the Atlantic, Sam stood on the jetty watching the Coast Guard and police divers in the cove. The mournful calls of the gulls and the whistling of the cool wind seemed the perfect dirge for the moment. He knew that they’d done the right thing, but the idea of yet another family torn apart made his heart ache.

Dean had called the police as soon as Lena had spoke those final three words and then he’d went up to Emily’s room with a heavy heart. How he’d known the exact spot he wasn’t sure, but he’d found the loose stone in the fireplace and behind it a fireproof box. The key had been taped to the underside of her desk and he’d unlocked the box to find three cloth bound books, each one a year in the life of Emily Marie Butterfield. Each page, another shovel of dirt that would bury her stepfather in his own degradation and depravity.

"How do you do it?" He questioned softly when he felt her presence.

Lena chuckled softly. "Not a matter of how Samuel, but of why. The gods they give me the ability for a purpose. As you should well know little brother."

Turning, his arms tightened around his chest as he tried to fend off the cold that had clung to him since Emily’s departure. "I don’t know what you mean."

Her dark eyes studied his face for a moment. "You will little brother. For now you must not look upon what the gods give you as a curse, but rather a blessing." She patted his shoulder and then headed down the jetty back to the shoreline.

Before he could ask anything else the sound of the divers yelling echoed across the water of Starfish Cove. They’d found her, Sam thought, far beneath the waves of the ocean. He swallowed hard and glanced away unable to witness them lifting the cage from the water. She’d just been a child, but her stepfather never saw that. Then again monsters rarely did.

"You going to be okay, Sammy?"

He turned damp eyes towards Dean as he climbed over the rocks, the waves spattering salty foam on his jeans and boots. "Yeah." He turned away staring out at the endless water tinged rose and gold by the rising sun. "I think I sort of have to be."

Dean nodded thoughtfully. "You know she was trying to get away from him."

"Yeah, I know."

"Cops say there’s enough evidence to put him away for good. He’ll pay for what he did."

Sam nodded, tears trailing silently down his face in the slowly brightening light. "A star to steer her by." He whispered.

"What?" Dean turned quirking one brow at Sam.

"The Ocean Star was the name of their boat…and it was a part of the name she gave this cove when she was six years old. It was her favorite place." He swallowed hard. "I hope a star guides her to her final rest."

Dean squeezed his shoulder and pointed into the southwestern sky that was still faintly dark. "I think she did." He said softly as he watched Sam’s gaze lift.

A faint watery smile curled the corner of Sam’s trembling lips. There just above the horizon was Venus still burning brightly, but fading away quickly in the rising light of the sun. Technically Venus wasn’t a star, but it was close enough, Sam thought. And hadn’t Venus arisen from the sea as well in the stories of ancient Rome?

"Let’s hit the road lil’ bro’." Dean’s arm curled around Sam’s shoulders as they gave the fading star one final glance and headed back to the shoreline.

~Finis~


End file.
